


Melting the Ice

by theladybeatrice



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Brotherhood, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:26:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladybeatrice/pseuds/theladybeatrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis (and Anne, really) hosted an annual ice skating festival.  Children, both of the nobility and the poorer streets of Paris, would gather at the frozen pond in the palace gardens for a morning of gliding across the ice.  Afterwards, there was a luncheon in the solarium before the urchins were sent home.  The adult nobility took their turn in the afternoon, making the experience much like a ball, only with blades.  The king and queen remained present throughout the day, requiring, of course, their personal guards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melting the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the DECFANFIC challenge. I'm sure I won't be able to keep up with every day's challenge, but a few ideas came to mind. Please realize that I don't skate, and I have no idea what skating was like in 1630, but I thought I would give it a shot anyway. If I fall flat on my face, just ignore me as I scoot off the ice. If you can, send Porthos to help pick me up.

“But why do I have to learn this?” d’Artagnan whined, uncharacteristically. Normally, he was eager to learn any new Musketeer skill, but this was something he never expected. Though it was his second winter in Paris, he had yet to be here an entire year. He hadn’t experienced the holiday season, and with it, all that would be required of the King’s guard. 

Louis (and Anne, really) hosted an annual ice skating festival. Children, both of the nobility and the poorer streets of Paris, would gather at the frozen pond in the palace gardens for a morning of gliding across the ice. Afterwards, there was a luncheon in the solarium before the urchins were sent home. The adult nobility took their turn in the afternoon, making the experience much like a ball, only with blades. The king and queen remained present throughout the day, requiring, of course, their personal guards. 

Though the skating party was still over a week away, Treville had secured permission for his Inseparables to teach d’Artagnan on the actual frozen pond behind the palace. Thankfully, the gardens still provided enough screening that the pond couldn’t actually be glimpsed from the royal residence. d’Artagnan would be mortified to be doing this in front the monarchs. As it was, he still felt incredibly hesitant to do this even in front of his brothers.

“Can’t we just wait on the banks? We’ll be close enough. We don’t actually dance with the king at a regular ball.” d’Artagnan tried unsuccessfully to make his point, turning his best puppy dog eyes towards the others. 

Tilting his head, Aramis explained with just a hint of impatience, “What if an assassin got to Louis in the center of the ice? How would we be able to protect the king just shouting from the shore?” 

“Buck up, lad! We’ll have you gliding in no time!” Porthos promised. He sat next to d’Artagnan on the bench, showing him how to lace the boots. As if bidden to do so at that particular moment, Athos nearly flew past them across the length of the pond, his scarf flowing out behind him. He was the very picture of calm, collected, cool. Aramis, unable to resist the lure of showing up Athos, sped into the center of the pond and spun. His arms rose gracefully over his head, curls flying out everywhere. Of, course, Aramis could do this perfectly. Porthos turned a grin on d’Artagnan, who only shivered with dread. 

“All right, let’s stand up,” Porthos put out a hand for d’Artagnan’s, knowing he would need the support to balance. The Gascon didn’t reach for it until he was halfway up, when he realized just how little equilibrium he had. Then, he latched on to Porthos like a drowning man. Chuckling, Porthos also wrapped an arm behind d’Artagnan’s waist, keeping him from wavering backwards. “Let’s just stand a moment. Get used to the feeling. Keep breathing,” Porthos encouraged. “All right, we’re going to step on the ice. I’ll go first, and you follow me.” Porthos took a gentle step onto the pond, still keeping hold on d’Artagnan who faltered but, at least, didn’t fall. 

While d’Artagnan was occupied watching the ice immediately in front of his feet, Athos and Aramis arrived before him. Both turned to face him, skating _backwards._ “Show offs,” d’Artagnan grumbled, earning a self-satisfied grin from Aramis. 

Athos put out his hands and coolly told d’Artagnan to take them. d’Artagan did so first with the hand not connected to Porthos, then very reluctantly released his hold on the larger man to quickly grab Athos. The sudden motion would have brought him down if Porthos had not moved behind to keep him standing. 

“d’Artagnan, loosen your grip, keep your palms down, and let me take your wrists. I’m only going to support you, not pull you around the pond.” Athos’ lip curled up in a smirk. It was rare to see their youngest so entirely out of his element. “Look in my eyes, not at your feet.” d’Artagnan raised his head to meet those ice-blue eyes, and hoped for a steadiness he did not quite feel. 

Slowly, the little procession of Athos, d’Artagnan, and Porthos made it’s way down the length of the pond, Aramis murmuring platitudes next to them. Athos was just about confident enough to release the lad’s wrists when the catastrophe occurred.

d’Artagnan couldn’t exactly say what confounded him, but he knew he was going down. His arms flailed out, slipped from Athos’ loosened grip, and knocked into Aramis. The forward motion pulled Porthos into him, and d’Artagnan fell right into Athos’ arms. The weight of all three men heaved into Athos, who sprawled out onto his ass but, somewhat miraculously, remained semi-upright. He avoided knocking his head onto the ice, and managed to lie back without further injury, remaining at the bottom of a pile of Musketeers. 

A heartbeat passed in silence. In a shaky voice, Aramis asked, “Everyone all right?”

“Still here,” Porthos offered. 

Nearly breathless, d’Artagnan supplied, “yeah, here.” 

The stillness of the gardens was almost palpable. “Athos?”

The surprising bark of laughter from their leader resounded off the ice and echoed through the park, a full rich sound that d’Artagnan had never heard, and which Aramis and Porthos had all but forgotten. Athos shook with the force of it, and his three brothers shared amazed smiles that broke into giggles until they were all quivering with silliness and crawling towards the safety of the shore. 

Skating, d’Artagnan thought, might not be so bad after all.


End file.
